


Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty

by hharrytomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adoption, Cat Ears, Cat/Human Hybrids, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Harry, Kitten Harry, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Rimming, Tails, Underage - Freeform, just read it, sort of, sort of but theres no sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3672789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hharrytomlinson/pseuds/hharrytomlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>“Harry?” Niall asks, and Harry peaks his head up to find Niall standing over him. Instinctively, he holds the man’s shirt into his fist and presses his cheek up against his stomach. “Do you want Louis to adopt you?”</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>Harry’s hand falls to the man’s lap and his fingers tug on his belt loop, as to ask if he’s the man named Louis. Louis nods his head and runs a hand through Harry’s hair, down in between his ears.</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>Harry purrs and nods his head, eyes falling closed when Louis pets the triangle shape of his ear. He rubs the soft skin of his cheek warm until Harry feels like he could easily fall asleep again and that’s what he does.</p><p>Or, Louis adopts Harry from a hybrid shelter and Harry likes to sleep a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty

**Author's Note:**

> I started this awhile ago and finished like a week ago.  
> follow me on [tumblr](http://hharrytomlinson.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/larryinlaws)

Harry's feet are cold. It's the first thing he thinks when he wakes up to the sound of his food dish being refilled. Burying his face into his knees and curling his feet into his thighs, Harry tucks himself under one of his blankets, his tail wrapping around himself for pure comfort.  
  
There's a kissing noise that has Harry brushing his face against his thigh and licking with the tongue he'd inherited from his mother, followed by the noise of food shaking that has his ears perked and attention drawn. The wintery cold of the shelter is far past him when he opens his eyes to peak through the cage, noticing Niall's blonde hair and his bottle of water refilled, clipped to the cage for him to suck on when he's thirsty.  
  
"Harry," Harry knows it's early by the hush of Niall's voice, "I've a friend who wants to meet you. Is that okay?" They have to ask for permission as a new safety code, along with Harry consenting to being adopted. He's younger than most of the kittens, which is why there's so many assumptions that he'll be the next to go.  
  
Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and nods his head tiredly, moving toward the back of the cage to close his eyes and rest for a few. He knows the drill quite well, expects for the cage to be lifted onto a carriage that brings him from the living and viewing area to a private room, where he's let out of the cage throughout the day, whether it's for viewing or exercise. The cage itself isn't too small, big enough for him to stretch and crawl, but not stand, which isn't thought of as something he should be doing according to the new laws of London and Hybrid Reservations.  
  
Harry hears footsteps but can only focus on the softness of the new blanket Liam got him last week and warming up his feet, which always get cold in the morning or at night. He's only wearing the boxers every kitten’s told to wear and his collar, with the name Harry inscribed on a gold charm that dangles around his neck.  
  
The door to the cage is opened and unlocked, however Harry stays inside, eyes fluttered shut and purring with content.  
  
"He takes some time to come out." What Niall's saying to the man who wants to view him is far past him, doesn't matter in that moment alone. "You can kneel by the cage and see if he'll budge, other than that you'll have to wait."  
  
"Okay," it's a softer voice that has Harry humming, has his face pressing into his blanket, "thanks, mate."  
  
The closing of the heavy metal door has Harry's eyes wide open and a soft cry whimpering from his throat. He shakes his head and buries it against the soft carpet of his cage, trying to stay quiet because he knows he has a visitor who isn't here to hear him cry from loud noises.  
  
"Love?" Harry can hear the frown in the man's voice and sniffles, trying to suck his tears back in and hold himself together. "Why're you crying, kitten?"  
  
Their voice is suddenly so close and Harry peaks up to find a male younger than thought kneeling by the opening of his cage. The thin bars normally separating him from everyone else are gone, and Harry manages to get himself together long enough to crawl forward. The stranger’s legs are in a criss cross style in front of him on the floor, so Harry takes it upon himself to settle in his lap, arms and legs folded beneath him and tail wrapped around him body to make himself smaller. It’s a thing he likes to do with Niall, tucking his head under his shirt and tickling his stomach with flickering ears, so it’s natural for him to nudge the hem of the man’s t-shirt with the points of his ears and set his cheek against the warm skin.

“Love?” The man asks again, except this time he has a hand on Harry’s back to support him and seems confused, surprised by the amount of affection. “You okay, then?”

Harry purrs and nods against the visitor’s stomach, rubbing his cheek back and forth a couple of times, before lowering his head to the man’s belly button and letting his tongue slide against the left of it, licking up and down vigorously a few times, before doing the same to the other side.

“Okay, I think that’s—“ the man cuts himself off when Harry places a kiss right above the button of his jeans and on his naval. He lifts his shirt away from Harry’s head, and Harry sulks for a moment, before he’s asked, “Can you tell me your name, sweetheart?”

Harry doesn’t talk much. Knows how to, but doesn’t like to, and flutters his eyes shut against the man’s torso instead. He opens them briefly again to get a good mental picture of the feathery way of his hair and blueness of his eyes, with strong cheekbones that has him purring, body vibrating.

Harry feels the charm on his collar being lifted, tugged at gently enough that the feeling’s nice, feels like what he imagines ownership feels like if anyone wanted to take him.

“Harry,” the visitor hums, “why don’t you go back into your cage and let me go speak to Niall, okay?”

Harry doesn’t budge. He understands the stranger fine, but his jeans are jeggings and soft, warm against his body, and his feet are still cold. The man’s hand feels too nice on Harry’s back for him to move.

“You don’t want me to go?” The warm body asks, the man who Harry knows he’ll fantasize about being the pet of for the next few days.

Harry doesn’t need to answer for the message to get across.

“I’ll text Niall then, yeah?” There’s some shuffling that disturbs Harry’s comfort in the man’s lap momentarily, before the noise of what Harry knows is a phone. He goes to tuck his head under the warm shirt again, wishing he had one of his own to tuck his head under whenever he liked, but the man stops him, keeps his shirt down without a word of refusal.

The noise of the heavy door again has Harry more comforted than normal with his body in a soft lap and up against warm fabric that feels like his boxers do every time he gets a clean pair, fresh out of the dryer, as Liam likes to say.

“Has he taken a liking to you?” Niall asks, Harry’s fingers curiously finding the waistband of the man’s jeans. He tries to dig them down fast with cat reflexes, having convinced himself there’s something down the tight space, but the man grabs his hand and tucks it away from his jeans before he can discover anything.

The man laughs. “I’ll take him if he’s available.”

“Harry?” Niall asks, and Harry peaks his head up to find Niall standing over him. Instinctively, he holds the man’s shirt into his fist and presses his cheek up against his stomach. “Do you want Louis to adopt you?”

Harry’s hand falls to the man’s lap and his fingers tug on his belt loop, as to ask if he’s the man named Louis. Louis nods his head and runs a hand through Harry’s hair, down in between his ears.

Harry purrs and nods his head, eyes falling closed when Louis pets the triangle shape of his ear. He rubs the soft skin of his cheek warm until Harry feels like he could easily fall asleep again and that’s what he does.

+

“Louis!” There’s a high voice and Harry nuzzles his cold nose into his hand, noticing that there’s a new, warmer blanket on top of him that wasn’t there before. “When will she wake up?”

“I told you, Phoebe, Harry’s a boy hybrid, you know that.”

Another loud noise, like a giggle, and Harry’s tucking the blanket over his head, hoping to disappear from consciousness a little while longer. His eyelids are heavy and when the voices begin again, they sound closer, so close that he groans crankily.

“But, Lou, we wanna play with him  _now._ ” It’s a different voice but all too similar.

“I know, love, but we have to let him sleep, okay?” While Harry slowly comes awake, he recognizes the voice to be the man’s from the shelter, remembers that he’d been taken, and the bumpy car ride of a taxi, the way his cage bounced in the trunk and the man who’d taken him was concerned that he wouldn’t have enough air to breathe in the small confinements.

Harry waits awhile to open his eyes, gently pulling the new blankets off of his face to kneel by the metal cage door and try to stick his fingers in between the gaps. The bars are too close together to fit his entire hand out, but someone must notice because a little girl is suddenly kneeling in front of him, eyes wide, while Harry moves his hand away and crawls toward the back of his cage.

“Lou,” the girl calls, “he’s awake.”

There’s a second girl, nearly identical, except there’s a pink ribbon in her hair that’s missing from the other girl’s. She proves herself brave when she sticks her index and middle fingers into the cage, patient while she waits for Harry to adjust to the new situation.

It’s a minute of Harry waiting and staring in fear before he crawls forward, ducking his head down to sniff the fingers, before licking one, listening to how it emits a giggle.

“Lou! He licked me!” She’s laughing, and then her hand’s being taken out.

“Hey, my turn!” The other girl sticks her fingers into the cage and waits for Harry’s attention, nearly glowing when he takes longer to roam his nose over her fingers, little breaths hitting her pale skin, before he sticks his tongue out.

“Girls, why don’t you wash up for supper while I let Harry out, okay?”

“But we want to play with him.” The fingers are gone and Harry brings his knees to his chest, resting his head between the crevices of his legs.

“And you will,” the man confirms, “after you both eat all your greens and ice cream.”

Harry flinches at the loud noise of running and screeches, footsteps on the floor, before they fade out and up a set of stairs.

The next person to kneel in front of the cage is the man, Louis, who smiles kindly at Harry and undoes the lock of the cage. He looks like he expects Harry to come darting out, but Harry does the opposite, just watches Louis who stares at him expectantly.

“C’mere, baby,” Louis folds his legs out in front of him like before and pats one of his legs, smiling softly when he crawls forward, head ducked down and ears pointed up. Harry tucks his soft head under Louis’ chin before settling into his lap with grace, nudging Louis’ wrist with his nose. “You hungry?”

Louis pets up Harry’s nose and toward in between his ears, gentle and treating him as delicately as he deserves. Harry nods his head, and crawls out of Louis’ lap, onto carpeted ground that feel nice on his hands and feet, even his knees which always go red from kneeling.

Louis makes a kissing noise that always has Harry’s attention, before standing and guiding him away from the smell of cooking food.

“I’m going to get you something to wear first, okay?” Harry moves to kneel on the backs of his legs, doesn’t attempt to follow behind Louis. “Do you want me to carry you?” He doesn’t respond, but the answer’s clear because Louis’ leaning down and grabbing Harry by his waist, supporting him by his bum and leaning down to whisper in his ear, “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

Harry’s set down on the edge of a soft bed that doesn’t allow his feet to touch the floor. He’s not as used to being like this, with his legs stretched out, and feels weird until there’s fabric being tossed into his lap and his attention’s drawn toward the open doors of Louis’ closet.

“You can pick what you like, but it’ll all probably be too big. Sorry about that, love.”

The first thing Harry’s hands find is a sweater with a soft inside in his lap. He holds it out toward Louis and nods his head, biting his lip with wide glowing eyes.

“You want that?” Harry nods. “Do you need help?”

Harry nods his head again and lets Louis clear the rest of the fabric out of his lap, before he’s helping fix the sweater over Harry’s head, past his curls and ears.

“I’m not sure how to accommodate for your tail.” Louis mulls and glances behind Harry to where his tail is slipped out of a hole in his boxers, specifically designed for hybrids with tails. “How about some socks?” Louis suggests, before he’s digging through a drawer and pulling out two pairs for Harry to choose from. One is a plain black, but thick, and the other’s white with fur insides made to keep warm. Harry slips them on his hands instead. “Nope,” Louis laughs, “c’mon, here,” he grabs the socks off of Harry’s hands gently and kneels to slip them onto his feet, managing to do so without any kicking. “You really aren’t planning to talk? Niall says you know how.”

Harry moves to crawl up the bed and toward a pillow that looks ridiculously soft, but Louis sets a hand on his waist to hold him in place.

“Not so fast, love, we’ve got to fill your tummy first.”

The noise. It’s the first time Harry giggles and he does so while sliding his hand under Louis’ shirt, cold hands touching a warm tummy.

“Mmm,” Louis hums, “later, okay, love?”

Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and nods his head, not moving his hand away until Louis picks him up. One of his velvet ears brush against the roughness of Louis’ jaw from his facial hair and Harry moves his head to feel it again, however Louis places a hand on the back of his head to keep him in place, the other still on his bum.

At the dining table, Harry’s set down next to the head of the table, and there’s a little girl on his left and in front of him.

“Stay put, okay?” Louis asks. “I’m going to go get the rest of the food out.”

“Lou?” The girl beside Harry asks. “Can I touch him?”

“Gently.” Louis kisses the top of Harry’s head, before he’s gone and Harry’s eyes are flickering every which way, taking in his surroundings and the girls he knows are the ones who’d been sticking their fingers into his cage by their scents.

Harry’s staring at the girl beside him when she reaches a hand over the top of his head and touches the soft hairs forming into curls, letting her index finger drag over his ears gently.

“I want to pet him.” The girl across from Harry pouts, and he waits for Louis to come back, letting his legs dangle off the floor because he’s not tall enough to reach it, not nearly as tall as Louis or Niall or Liam.

“Louis said he can sleep in my room.” The girl touching Harry boosts, and then gets a relative whine out of the other until Louis comes back.

“Lou Lou, why does Phoebe get Harry in her room?”

“Dais, remember when we went to the fair and you and Phoebs both got fish?” Louis sets down a few dishes of vegetables and grabs the girl across from Harry, Daisy’s plate to serve her dinner.

Daisy nods her head, eyebrows knitted together in confusion while Phoebe retracts her hand from Harry’s ears, deciding she can pet him some more after they eat.

“Well, it’s like that, except Harry’s my pet and we have to treat him very carefully. We can’t have you two fighting over where he sleeps when it’s all up to him.”

Harry doesn’t like being spoken of like he’s not there, like he’s too small to understand, but that’s not true. He was raised in a home until he was eight, with his parents and mum and dad, after all. He brings his warmed feet up on the chair and knees in front of his chest to lean his head on, before pressing his face into them and hoping for the world around him to disappear.

+

Harry feels like he’s falling, sinking, waking startled and with tears falling down his face. He begins to cry without noticing it and the hiccups are what wake Daisy and then Phoebe, who panic and beg Harry to stop. Before he knows it the light to the bedroom is on and Louis’ climbing into the big bed. Harry remembers the argument over where Harry slept while he waited patiently on the couch, remembers Louis giving in and telling the girls, who’re supposed to be twins but Harry can tell them apart, that they can sleep with Harry in his bed while he occupies one of their smaller beds.

“Harry, babe,” Louis crawls in between Harry and Phoebe and wraps an arm over his shoulder, bringing him into his chest, “you okay? Having a nightmare?”

Harry nods his head and clings to Louis, refusing to let go even when he suggests that he goes back to the Daisy’s bed.

“Dais?” Louis asks. “Can you turn the light off? I guess I’ll be sleeping here.” The bed’s big enough for everyone, especially when Harry’s on top of Louis, shaking softly into his chest until his cries turn to small hiccups, followed by purrs of content because Louis’ so soft and warm, the blankets so heavy that he might cry from the comfort, and the mattress doing wonders for his back.

+

Phoebe and Daisy are gone when Harry wakes up, and Louis’ already awake. When Harry’s eyes flutter open, Louis leans down to kiss the top of his head and whispers, “They’re downstairs watching television.” It’s then that Harry realizes he’s been sleeping with his legs in between Louis’ and his back to his chest, so comfortably that he hadn’t noticed sooner.

Harry rolls over onto his front and sets his head down on Louis’ chest, noticing it to be bare and licking the warm skin and bits of chest hair that press against his cheek.

“You cleaning me?” Louis asks jokingly. “Think I’ll need a bit more than that to get clean, though. Do you like baths, love?”

Harry nods his head, before getting off of Louis and curling into a ball on top of the duvet beside him, making it so he can lick the light hairs on his legs clean out of instinct, the pad of his tongue fixing any out of place hygiene.

“Harry?” Louis asks, “I’m going downstairs to make the girls breakfast, come down when you’re ready, okay?”

Harry nods his head, but he’s uncertain and ends up falling asleep again. A part of him knows that he doesn’t have the ability to take the initiative to go downstairs by himself and enter the kitchen alone, without any guidance at all. He’s barely fifteen and in an unfamiliar place – he can’t help it.

Woken again by the sound of running water, Harry wipes his eyes and stretches, yawning into the mattress, before noticing an open door and a bath filling up.

“I’m running you a bath.” Louis appears out of his closet, a pile of clothes stacked in his arm. “If it’s okay with you. I wanted to let you sleep in, since you had trouble sleeping last night.”

Louis carries Harry to the bathroom out of habit, turning around to let him strip and get into the soap-filled tub. Harry’s tail sticks out of the water when he moves it and he ducks underneath with a giggle, coming back up with a blob of soap in between his ears and his hair soaking wet, sticking to his head. He moves his bangs out of his face and leans against the tiled wall, knees to his chest and body tucked in on itself.

Harry’s confused when Louis takes a step toward the bath and then another one. He leans into the tub, toward the far corner of it, and holds Harry’s cheek in his hand when he leans down to press their lips together, soft and gentle and like he needs it.

Harry’s so confused that he begins to shake and Louis feels the quiver of his cheek in his hand and pulls back immediately, begins to apologize and watches the way Harry slowly melts in the bath, falls apart until there’s nothing but a scared hybrid left and Louis has to pick up the pieces with a comb through his hair and a palm rubbing soothingly along the middle of his back.

+

“We want to take Harry outside.” Daisy pouts. “You said we can play with him.”

Harry’s been hiccupping and sniffling all afternoon, despite having cried in the bath hours before. He rests by Louis’ feet on the carpeted floor despite Louis asking him if he’d prefer the couch, kneels curled to his chest. Every so often Louis leans down to rub his back for a minute or two, drawing his attention away from the work papers in his hand.

“Harry’s not well right now, Dais.” Louis frowns. “If you ask him nicely and he wants to, I’m sure Harry would love a good cuddle.”

“Cuddles aren’t any fun.” Phoebe goes to sit on Louis’ lap, her attention drawn to the perkiness of Harry’s ears.

Louis gasps, “But you love my cuddles.” To make a point, he hugs Phoebe extra tight and kisses her on the cheek.

“I’ll cuddle Harry.” Daisy volunteers, kneeling by Harry on the floor and asking kindly, “Do you mind if I cuddle with you?”

Harry’s not a good cuddler, but he doesn’t say no. Cuddling appears to consist of Daisy running her fingers through his tail and kissing the top of his head when she feels sweet, murmuring, “Don’t be sad.” into his hair when he lets out a considerably loud hiccup.

+

Harry spends the night in Louis’ bed with just him, curling up at the end with his tail wrapped around himself. Louis places two thick blankets over him once he’s fast asleep, and he wakes up the next morning feeling better than the day before, crawling up the bed to nudge his head under Louis’ chin.

Harry falls back to sleep just as Louis wraps an arm around his waist, holding him closer. He can feel the stubble on Louis’ jaw with the tip of his ears and smiles into his neck, curling in close while he attempts to catch some more sleep.

When Harry wakes up again there’s something hard against his hip and Louis’ sleeping on top of him, chest to chest, but in just the right position that he’s being gentle with his kitten. Harry rubs his cold nose into the crook of Louis’ neck just as Louis moves his hips forward, grinding in small bits but Harry soon realizes that he doesn’t mind. The rhythm is similar to that of his shakes when he grows scared or frightened, and finds it comforting until Louis’ breathing begins to pick up and he’s wide awake, moaning into the top of Harry’s head and going harder, faster into his hip until there’s something wet there and Harry’s confused.

Louis lets him wriggle out from beneath him and crawl back to the end of the bed to curl up in the warmth of the bed that’s been made for him down there full of blankets. In the meantime, Louis sits up in shock and lifts back the waistband of his boxers to have a look before he grumbles “ _Fuck_.” under his breath.

+

Harry’s asleep on the couch with his head in Phoebe’s lap, small fingers flying delicately through his hair and over his ears. Barely feet away from where Harry’s legs are curled into his chest, Daisy plays with his tail and the soft dark brown hairs.

“Girls,” Louis enters the living room from where Daisy and Phoebe are watching television. “I thought you two were going to play outside?”

“We were but Harry wanted to sleep.” Daisy argues. “We can’t just leave him. What if he gets lonely?”

Harry’s chest rises and falls at a steady pace, his cheek pressed into a small thigh.

“Harry will be here when you’re done playing.” Louis’ walks closer to the couch, arms crossed over his chest. “And I’ll keep an eye on him, if that makes you more comfortable. He’s capable of being alone, you know.”

“I know.” Phoebe sighs. She gets up gently, letting Harry’s head hit the couch with ease. “We love him, though.” She approaches his waist and clings to him, head buried in his stomach.

“I know you do.” Louis kisses the top of her head, Daisy’s following when she stands by him. “But you can’t let that stop you from doing normal things like playing outside in the grass and digging for worms.”

“Gross,” Phoebe scrunches up her nose, giggling, before running back toward the couch and kissing Harry on the nose. “If he asks for me, can you come get me?” She asks, jumping up and down and tugging on Louis’ hand.

Louis agrees, but doesn’t count on it, hasn’t heard Harry’s voice yet.

While Daisy and Phoebe are outside, Louis settles on the couch where they formerly were, clicking through the channels on the television with the remote and biting his lip every time he notices Harry stirring.

When Harry does wake up, he does so gradually, yawning and stretching, before crawling directly into Louis’ lap and tucking his head under the thin cotton of his shirt, using it as a blanket.

“You have a good sleep, love?” Harry holds onto Louis’ waist, fingers finding the belt loops of his jeans and clinging to them. He nods his head, kissing the center of Louis’ chest. “The girls didn’t want to leave your side.” Louis hums, noticeably unsure on what to do with his hands, if he should touch Harry and support his waist, or resume looking for something to watch on the television.

Harry makes a small meowing noise, before he begins to purr, vibrating in Louis’ lap.

“You sleep so much, love, do you want to go out and play? Burn some energy or anything?” Louis suggests, is slightly concerned for his new kitten, and Harry knows that, but shakes his head.

Harry presses his nose to Louis’ chest instead, small breaths of air hitting his skin as he roams his head over his torso. His fingers play with the belt loops with need, holding on tight and only letting go when he discovers a new one. Under Louis’ shirt, the light is all red from the color of the fabric, but Harry doesn’t mind, doesn’t need to see to feel and smell.

It’s when Harry finds something hard and metal in place of a belt loop that he’s confused. He knows that it’s the button to Louis’ pants when he thinks of it, but hasn’t worn jeans in years,  _can’t_  think of it.

So he fishes it through the fabric and undoes the zipper experimentally, young and curious. He doesn’t expect for Louis to hold his hands away, to pull the shirt off from over his head and pin his hands to his back.

“No.” Louis says, stern. “You can’t do that, love.” But Harry knows that he can, feels the hard pressure from this morning again and smiles innocently, shyly.

Harry’s beet red when he buries his face into Louis neck, arms around it while he clings to him, sniffing up the length of his skin and licking the warmth up.

“Harry,” Louis sounds like he’s trying to give a warning, but Harry kisses him instead, likes the comfort and the way Louis smells. He likes doing things on his terms, not surprise kisses in the bath that he can’t escape.

Harry’s content with himself when he climbs out of Louis’ lap and hops off of the couch on all fours, crawling out of the room toward the kitchen where there’s water in a dish for him, along with a bottle of water in case he decides he wants to act human.

+

They’re in bed when Harry decides he wants to please Louis. He’s done this before, knows he’s expected to do it again, except this time it starts out with him crawling into Louis’ lap from where he’s watching television on his bed and dragging his cheek against his facial hair. At the same time that he wants to be warm and cuddled, he knows he’ll only get that once he’s good, so crawling under the covers is nothing for him.

Harry takes his time in pulling back the waistband of Louis’ boxers and aligning the head of his penis against his lips experimentally. Louis isn’t paying attention to him until now, until there’s something soft against him, small kisses and Harry’s own meow when he nuzzles against his warm thigh, holding onto his penis gently.

“Harry, darling, you don’t need to—“

Harry cuts Louis off with the length of his tongue and leans forward to take only the tip of his penis into his mouth, wanting to take his time because he’s aware of the fact that he’s in the position allowing him to do so.

“Harry,” Louis’ tone is sterner and Harry doesn’t expect to be pulled off of Louis, clings to his thigh because he can’t let go, doesn’t want to, but Louis tugs on his arm anyway, brings him above the covers despite Louis’ hard on and how warm his thighs felt against Harry’s face.

Harry feels rejected and hurt and murmurs, “Lou?” in a whisper.

Louis leaves the room.

+

Harry sleeps with Phoebe’s arms around him and in her twin sized bed, cuddling close for comfort. In all truth, he wishes it were Louis instead, but small arms and the smell of watermelon body wash will have to do for the mean time.

+

In the morning, Harry’s woken by a hand sifting through his hair and opens his eyes slowly to Louis leaning over him, seated on the edge of the bed.

“The girls went to school.” He murmurs, wiping under Harry’s eye and over his bottom lip. “If you want,” he suggests, “I can make you feel good.”

Louis starts with a kiss to Harry’s forehead, gentle hands on his waist and lifting his sweater, Louis’ sweater. He trails downward to Harry’s neck, above his collar and nearly under his chin where he begins to suck. Squirming and turning his head to the side, Harry makes a noise of discomfort, but Louis manages to hold his head in place for the time being, leaving a hickey, as if the collar wasn’t enough.

“Hurts.” Harry whispers, and it’s the second time he’s talked. This time, he’s staring directly into Louis’ eyes with his bottom lip pouted, wanting to squirm away, but Louis has his head stuck in place with firm hands on his chin.

“I know, baby.” Louis leans forward to kiss the pout off his lips. “But I’m going to make it feel better, okay?”

Harry nods his head and widens his legs when Louis crawls between them. His sweater is lifted toward the middle of his chest, followed by his boxers being dragged down his legs and toward his ankles, and then flung toward the ground.

Harry’s naked in front of Louis before he knows it.

“Bend your knees for me.” Louis asks gently, kissing the insides of Harry’s thighs and only moving forward once Harry’s knees are bent, allowing him more access to his bum, where he licks a stripe up and Harry suddenly sits up in confusion. “Shh,” Louis coos, “you’re okay, going to make you feel good, okay?”

Harry slowly nods his head, and smiles when Louis holds one of his hands, the other used to spread his bum apart among the licks and small sucks delivered there. Harry doesn’t expect it to feel as good as it does, but kind of likes how wet it feels there from Louis’ mouth once he’s came, is curious and leans down to dip his tongue into his stomach where something wet’s collected as well.

“Don’t do that, love.” Louis tsks, but Harry knows he wants him to do it when he’s not stopped. The back of his neck isn’t grabbed to pull him away like his mum would’ve done if she were still alive, and Louis just watches, tracing small patterns on his back from beside him.

Once Harry’s stomach is licked clean, Louis offers a bath. This time, Harry’s purring while Louis scrubs shampoo into his hair and giggles when a kiss is placed on his heart shaped lips.

+

When the girls come home from school, they’re kneeling by Harry on the floor where he’s napping in the living room and petting through his hair and between his ears until he wakes up.

“Lou?” Phoebe looks up to where Louis’ reading a book on the couch. “Can we play with Harry?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him, love?” Louis suggests, only for Harry to suddenly sit up and crawl onto the couch, moving away from the twins and into Louis’ lap. From there, he plays with Louis’ belt loops and runs his finger over the smooth metal of his belt buckle. Daisy and Phoebe follow him onto the couch.

“Why does Harry sleep so much?” Daisy watches Harry rub his cheek against Louis’ stomach and the fabric of his shirt. “All he does is sleep.”

“Harry’s tired, Dais.” Louis runs his hand through Harry’s hair, rubbing between his ears until he purrs and settles comfortably in his lap, stopping his fidgeting.

“Can we get a dog?” Phoebe asks. “I want someone to play with.”

“You’ve Daisy.” Louis points out.

“I want a pet, though, and I don’t think Harry likes us very much.”

Harry frowns and can’t help it when his lip begins to quiver. He doesn’t want Louis to leave him or get rid of him, and suddenly he’s shaking too noticeably, that Louis presses a finger under his chin until he’s forced to look up, shiny wet eyes and pouted bottom lip on show.

“Oh, love, don’t cry.” Louis sighs and wipes under Harry’s eyes. “The girls just want to play. They understand if you’re not up for it, though.”

“Is he crying because of us?” Daisy asks. “We didn’t mean it, Harry.”

Harry moves to lean up in Louis’ lap and wraps his arms around his neck, clinging tightly to him.

“Play.” Harry breathes into Louis’ ear and crawls in between Phoebe and Daisy, who’re both nearly the same size as him, but he’s managed to be a bit larger, despite his malnutrition and lack of nurture.

“I think he wants to play.” Louis smiles. “Why don’t you two show him to your playroom?”

The playroom is downstairs so Harry crawls on his hands and knees, following behind Phoebe and Daisy who keep turning around to make sure he’s following. Harry’s never been inside the room before, or noticed its existence, and finds that it’s filled with toys, but not in a messy way. A very neat way, in fact, that has Harry in a chair at a cleared off table, with Phoebe and Daisy sitting across from him.

“Do you want to play tea party?” Phoebe asks, hands folded in front of her on the table.

“We can give him a makeover.” Daisy smiles with a missing bottom tooth and despite Harry not saying anything, he doesn’t stop the twins from sprinkling pink blush over his cheeks and closes his eyes when they’re doing his eyeliner, keeping them open for mascara. Harry sits still during the lipstick, before Phoebe’s running downstairs to get Louis and show him.

“Don’t know why I need to be—“ Louis starts, but is interrupted when he spots Harry sitting at Phoebe and Daisy’s small table and chair set, a face of makeup on and looking terribly beautiful.

“We made him pretty, Louis.” Daisy grins.

“He already  _was_  pretty.” Louis kneels down beside Harry and grabs one of his hands in his. “You don’t mind that they did this to you?”

Harry shakes his head, and then buries it on top of Louis’ shoulder.

“Careful, there, you’re gonna get makeup on me.”

Harry’s beat red when he pulls away, but Louis can’t tell considering his cheeks are already red. Instead of blushing further, Harry kisses Louis on the lips and pulls back once Louis’ lips are stained red, giggling and kissing him on the cheek to watch it leave his mouth again.

“Harry!” Phoebe frowns. “You’re going to ruin your lipstick.”

Harry giggles again, a soft and gentle noise.

“I’m going to go clean this off my face and cook dinner.” Louis stands to his feet, when suddenly Daisy hurries across the room to hand him a makeup wipe. “Thank you. I’ll see you two rascals in the kitchen.”

Louis’ about to leave reaching distance, so Harry quickly tugs on his shirt and raises his arms, showing that he wants to be carried.

“Want to help me with dinner?” Louis asks, eyebrows turned down in confusion.

Harry nods his head and neither of the twins complain about Harry’s departure.

Helping Louis cook dinner turns into Harry swinging his legs off the counter and kissing Louis every time he leans into him.

“Such a pliant kitten.” Louis praises when he asks Harry for a kiss on the cheek and he complies straight away without any hesitance. He rubs Harry’s thigh and kisses him on the neck, dragging his cheek against the softness of his jawline, his facial hair scratching and branding him red. “Do you want anything special with dinner?”

Harry looks down, confused as to why Louis’ being so nice. His chin’s lifted by Louis’ index and middle finger, forcing him to look up again.

“Do you want ice cream for being such a good boy?”                              

Harry smiles and nods his head, never having gotten ice cream at the shelter, let alone with dinner. Then again, there was no such thing as dessert there, only three meals a day and water whenever he wanted it.

“Louis?” Phoebe asks during dinner. “How come Harry gets ice cream with his meal and I don’t?”

“Remember when you won that contest at school and you got cake and didn’t have to eat your beans?”

Phoebe nods her head.

“It’s like that, but Harry’s been really good today and I’m giving him a treat for it.”

“What about me?” Daisy pouts. “When do  _I_  get dessert for dinner?”

“You get it on your birthday.” Louis takes a bite out of his pasta and watches Harry, who licks the spoon of ice cream until it’s clean, before going back into his bowl for more and smiles so brightly every time he tastes the vanilla sweetness of the cold dessert. His eyes twinkle when he smiles, surrounded by a light amount of eyeliner and mascara, and Louis watches him noticeably throughout dinner.

In bed that night, Harry’s face is wiped clean of all makeup and he curls into Louis’ side, holding onto the small fabric belt loops of his pajama pants, before realizing he has some of his own. He tugs his pants down with the belt loops, giggling at the sudden control he has over his pants, but the problem remains that he’s not wearing any boxers underneath and his cock’s suddenly sprung free.

“Naughty.” Louis jokes, kissing the side of Harry’s head and thankful that the girls have gone off to bed, luckily in their own individual rooms and without Harry.

“Good boy.” Harry shakes his head and repeats from early. “You said so.” He says quietly, so confused and releasing his belt loops, despite his pants still down around his thighs.

“Of course,” Louis frowns, “you’re the best boy I know. Don’t ever worry, okay?”

Harry bites his lip and nods his head, trying to sit up and crawl by Louis’ feet, but he ends up tripping over his pants and falling back on to his bum.

“Let me help, love.” Louis offers and tries to pull the pants back up Harry’s waist, but Harry shakes his head and does the opposite, tugging them down his legs. It leaves him in only a soft maroon sweater three sizes too big – just the way he likes it.

Harry straddles Louis next in place of resting by his feet, as he’d planned. He sets his head on Louis’ bare chest and legs in between his, his tail gently resting flat against the back of one of his smooth legs, as to not lift the sweater from over his bum. Louis defeats the purpose of keeping his tail still when he moves the sweater up over Harry’s bum and caresses the skin softly.

“You’re a beautiful boy.” Louis hums and sets his other hand around Harry’s waist.

Harry tries to sit up and move his hands to Louis’ pajama pants. He knows how to give a blow job and intends to do so, but Louis grabs his hands before he can even move and holds them behind his back.

When Harry looks up, he has a look of awestruck and confusion ridden on his face.

“I don’t want you doing anything for me.” He moves his hand off of Harry’s bum to rub in between Harry’s ears, the way that makes him purr. “Not until you’re sixteen and legal, and sure. You’ve got to be sure.”

“Sure.” Harry whispers and moves his hand back on top of Louis’ chest from where he’s lifted it. “I’m sure.” He rubs his cheek against his warm skin, swaying his head up and down until he’s nearly asleep. When he’s there, in a state of unconsciousness, he can still somehow feel Louis being so gentle with him, caressing his cheek and releasing his wrists with ease.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](http://hharrytomlinson.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/larryinlaws)


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